Foreign Hearts
by ARW1860
Summary: Full Summary inside! A multi-chapter story many months in the making, based on a series of role plays on tumblr. All content from Lord of the Rings is a mixture of both book and movie verse, with some aspects from each. Read and review please! Rated T for safety.
1. Introduction

**Summary:** Princess Anna Valerious stepped through the portal that was to lead her to her fate-little did she know she would set foot in a world unlike any other and come face to face with Boromir of Minas Tirith, nor could she have imagined what would happen after their paths became intertwined. A tale derived from a series of tumblr roleplays that explores the hearts and minds of Gondor's finest and Transylvania's bravest.

All content belongs to their rightful owners: Lord of the Rings to J. R. R. Tolkien and Van Helsing to Stephen Sommers. All role play content is posted with the role players' permission and consent.

Role players featured in this chapter: king-aragorn-of-gondor and princessannavalerious

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**Prologue**

_The memory was fresh in his mind. Each muted shadow matched with the soft glow from the Elven city, each word of the lament sung around them crisp and clear, each sorrowful face of the Company around him lined with pain that ran deep. And there before him, the man he had come to call friend and now would have liked to call brother, shoulders tense as he stared out over the darkened woods all around._

_"Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" Boromir had asked, his face softening from its pained expression to one of pure happiness, his lips curling up slightly at the memory of his beloved city. In his mind, Aragorn had pictured it, the shining city darting out from the surrounding white-capped mountains like a white dagger. It was a vision to behold, bright and brilliant as it stood before the gloom and darkness of Mordor. It was a beacon of hope, and, as the man before him recalled his home, the ranger let the image fill his mind. They needed hope._

_"I have seen the White City, long ago." Aragorn had answered softly. His destiny lay there, among those high banners and white walls. He, the heir of Isuldur-he, Elessar, the Elf-stone, the heir to the throne of Gondor. Their journey had still laid before them, however. Boromir turned, a smile parting his lips and the elder man could see the hope that had nearly been stripped of him moments before return._

_"One day, our paths will lead us there and the tower guard will take up the call: The Lords of Gondor have returned. " The captain had clapped his hand against Aragorn's shoulder and the ranger gave a short nod, allowing a smile of his own to form. The Lords of Gondor, returning triumphant from their quest, Sauron defeated. The prospect, at the time, was daunting and the road ahead dangerous. Still, Aragorn knew that they had to hold on to what little hope they had._

_"You are eager to return home," he had remarked. Boromir had smiled at that, nodding as he turned his grey eyes to look back out over Lorien._

_"Yes. I have been gone for far too long; I know I am missed."_

_"Your father and brother will be glad to have you return," Aragorn had supplied, seeing the look of adoration that passed over the warrior's face. Eyes glittering, Boromir turned again, his smile widening._

_"Yes, and there is another..."_

_Now, months later, Aragorn-crowned Elessar-looked up from the path in the gardens, seeing the other Boromir spoke of; Anna. She stood still, admiring the beauty of the freshly planted flowers as the king himself had been doing just moments before. He had only caught mere glimpses of the foreign princess since his arrival in the city. Aragorn had allowed her to stay, not only in the citadel, but in the palace itself, where she had resided with the former Steward's family before the war. He approached her quietly, stopping a few feet away from her. Boromir had spoken of her during the quest and his description of her beauty rang true. Still, the king knew little else about her and, as he studied her for a moment, he wished to ask her to tell the tale of how she came to this land and all the stories that followed._

_"Greetings, my lady," Aragorn began pleasantly. "How do you fare this afternoon?"_


	2. Footsteps of Foreigners

All content belongs to their rightful owners: Lord of the Rings to J. R. R. Tolkien and Van Helsing to Stephen Sommers. All role play content is posted with the role players' permission and consent.

Role players featured in this chapter: princessannavalerious and boromirofminastirith

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**1. Footsteps of Foreigners**

"In the name of God, open this door."

Anna Valerious watched in awe as the map, painted into the wall of the Manor centuries ago-the same map her father had stared out for years, surrounded by tomes and volumes of their family history, much as she was now, the same map that had perplexed the King of Vaseria for his entire life-disolved before her very eyes. The rivers seemed turned to ice and, with a sound earily similar to the shrill pitch of the wind through the mountains, the familiar landscape vanished, replaced by the clear reflection of the room and it's occupants.

"A mirror," Carl supplied, peering at his reflection. It was painfully obvious, but again, true grasp of the concept slipped through their fingers.

"Dracula has no reflection in a mirror," Anna reminded, brows furrowing.

"Why?" Van Helsing asked, his own expression changing to one of confusion and frustration. They were so close. The princess was livid herself, coming so close to the final answer, the final fight, only to be stopped short by another puzzle.

"Maybe... Maybe to Dracula it isn't a mirror at all," Carl interjected. Shocked, Anna watched as Van Helsing stepped forward, pressing his fingers to the glass, and jumping when they slipped right through.

"It's cold... and it's snowing." Removing his hand, he turned, showing her the flakes collected in his palm. He grabbed a torch from its wraught iron sconce and stepped into the glass-the door, she realized suddenly with awe-with the promise that he would meet her on the other side.

Steeling herself, the princess took a torch of her own, gripping the cold metal tightly in her hand, inhaling deeply, and closing her eyes before stepping forward and charging through, hearing the crack of ice all around her. It was surreal and, when her feet found the hard surface of ground beneath themselves yet again, she reminded herself that beyond the protection of her eyelids was the very fabric of nightmares. Still, apprehensive as she was, she was prepared for the thrill of the fight that lay ahead.

Peeling her eyes open, Anna was startled to see not darkness, not ice and snow, not the horrific visions of what she knew was her greatest enemy's personal prison and kingdom, but an empty room. Confusion splayed across her face and she glanced to the left and right, even leaning forward slightly in case of a trick wall, stumped.

Where was she?

"Van Helsing?" the princess whispered fiercely, free hand gripping the pommel of her sword. "Van Helsing?"

The only reply she received was silence. The moment of quiet was broken almost instantly by the sound of approaching footsteps. Her head jerking up, Anna went rigid, preparing herself to meet the figure coming towards her.

The man that rounded the corner towered over her easily with broad shoulders. In the moment they both took in the other's presence, Anna noted the scattered pieces of armor on his person, as well as what looked like an ornately decorated horn on his belt. She saw next the broad sword and, in an instant, the man dropped the cloth in his hands and drew the weapon, staring her down. She jumped, letting the torch fall from her hand as she drew her own blade.

"Who are you and why are you here?" he demanded briskly.

She had been anticipating a fight, but not like this. If anything, Anna was dismayed; she was not only separated from her friends and allies, facing a stranger who seemed intent to skewer her, but she was hopelessly lost. Only two choices remained before her-she could try to negotiate the situation to her favor or end up fighting for her life.

It was in times like this that she remembered her title and the immunity it sometimes allowed her.

"Princess Anna Valerious!" she answered, her grip on her weapon tightening. "Where am I? And just who the hell are you?"

The man only raised an eyebrow. For a moment that seemed to draw on for eternity, her heart pounding in her ears, he regarded her, looking her up and down. For the first time over a year, Anna felt a gaze as hard as her own on her.

"You are in Minas Tirith, more specifically the private quarters of the Steward of Gondor" her adversary answered, raising his sword in the beginning of a strike, prompting her to hold her own in a defensive gesture. Her thoughts ran rampant, some laced with sarcasm at her situation and others befuddled at his words. Gondor? Minas Tirith? She had never before heard of such places!

"Tell me where you are from," he ordered next, frown deepening. The princess balked, knowing if he did not recognize the territory, she could be doomed. Still, she could easily make her tone match his.

"I am from Transylvania," she replied coldly, holding her stance in case he struck. "You didn't answer my last question; who are you? The Steward of Gondor?"

"No, his heir." The man's reply was short and clipped and, from what little context she had to go by, Anna guessed that they were matched in titles. Before either of them could say anything else, a flurry of footsteps met their ears and they both turned, the princess tensing at the appearance of another man, who froze in fear at the sight of them.

Half-turning away from her, her adversary lowered the tip of his blade slightly as he leaned closer to the man, whom the foreigner suspected was a servant, and began relaying hushed instructions.

"Send word to my Father that I am in need of his counsel," the Steward's heir ordered, casting a glance back at her before adding; "Bring a handful of guards." As the servant hurried away, Anna's eyes narrowed and her lips turned down in a frown. If the saying was true, like father, like son, she could be doomed.

The moment they were alone again, the man turned back to her. "Since you have offered no threat and declare yourself royalty, you have been granted a fair chance with the Steward to tell your tale." Satisfied with his response, he then lowered his blade until the tip touched the floor. While she was still tense and wary, as she knew he was of her, the princess lowered her weapon as well, hoping it would help to defuse the situation and make it less hazardous for the both of them.

"And then what?" she demanded. "If I am found a threat by your father, what will become of me?" It was part curiosity and part fear that she would be unable to complete her mission that made her ask, but it was a valid question-as a prisoner, as she assumed she now was, what punishment would await her, if found guilty?

"It will hinge on what he decides you are," he said finally. It seemed as if he was as relieved as she was that their swords had been lowered. "If you are indeed an enemy from the Black Lands, we will have no choice but to kill you. Should what you claim prove true, perhaps there may be a way to return you to Transylvania."

Anna sighed, hating the fact that her fate was being passed between unfamiliar hands yet again. It was inevitable, she supposed, meeting this strange man's father and being judged, as much as she disliked the idea. Still, if it must be done, so be it.

"Very well,' she replied, raising her head high as she sheathed her sword. "Take me to see the Steward of Gondor." She paused, testing the word on her tongue fully, noting how odd it was. The Steward's son fixed her with an intent look, studying her as she stood before him. Whether or not he was trying to pick apart her appearance or note any flaws in a guise, she didn't know, but she motioned with her hand towards him, intending to walk alongside him. Before she would move, however, she had to make one thing clear to him-to plead her case in the hopes of swaying him, even in the slightest.

"I am not lying to you. That you can be assured of." Her brows furrowed slightly as she continued, "As a princess I make this promise. I am sure you as an heir understand your duties as I do mine."

The man turned his stern eyes to her again as she came to stand beside him. "That I do," he answered gruffly, turning and leading her out of the room. Anna cast one last glance behind her, wondering if the door was still there. The only sight that met her was a blank wall and her dismay returned. She was trapped. With a silent sigh, she turned back, tilting her head to look up at the man's face fully, a subtle frown tugging at her lips.

"You don't believe me." She had known from the moment he began studying her that convincing him-let alone his father-was not going to be easy. He glanced at her briefly as the requested guards filed in behind him, seemingly easing his mind but setting hers on edge.

"It is not me you need to convince," he supplied, regarding her once again before turning and leading them away.


	3. Equivalent Exchange

All content belongs to their rightful owners: Lord of the Rings to J. R. R. Tolkien and Van Helsing to Stephen Sommers. All role play content is posted with the role players' permission and consent.

Role players featured in this chapter: princessannavalerious and boromirofminastirith

Please, read and review!

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**2. Equivalent Exchange**

Anna bristled when the guards arrived, falling into step beside and behind her, the heavy, unsettling silence broken only by their footfalls. As her irritation melted away, she took in the guards fully, noting the silver polished armor each was garbed in, as well as the swords-broad swords, she noted with shock-belted on their hips.

And, letting her eyes stray from the men on all sides of her, the princess' eyes wandered to the long, wide halls, Anna's mouth fell slightly open, shocked and awed by the marble architecture all around her. White and grey marble and limestone, carefully pieced together by master craftsmen no doubt, surrounded the small party above and below. For the first time in her life, the princess felt as if her own home, made of solid stone and hard woods, was poor in comparison. They must have been in a palace, she guessed, jaw setting sharply with sudden clarity and a tinge of envy that she refused to admit. What other kind of halls were adorned so greatly with so much expensive, beautiful stonework?

Turning her eyes forward again, Anna found herself silently amused. To an outsider, the party must have been comical to watch; it consisted entirely of guards, garbed in shining silver and dark blue, the Steward's heir, similar in dress to his countrymen, yet not so at the same time, and her, the foreigner in dark reds and blacks. She stuck out like a sore thumb already and she had barely been in this new place-capital city, palace, whatever it truly was-for less than an hour.

As the group approached their destination, as Anna guessed again, noting the presence of more guards, heavier armed than those leading her, and the finery of the palace coming into view, her stomach began to sink. If the Steward chose to not believe her tale, she could be doomed. Her mind began to wander to a common list of punishments, well known by rulers alike in many different countries-imprisonment, torture, and death were the first in her mind and none were acceptable. She had to return to Transylvania, or, rather, continue on to Dracula's lair, to finish her family's work!

A large door swung open before her and Anna stepped forward cautiously, feeling the guards at either side of her step closer, the Steward's heir leading them into a vast, wide chamber, lined with tall pillars and pristine white statues, depicting former rulers no doubt.. A throne room, her mind spat out as she took in the elaborate chair on the pedestal in the room's center, met with an equally graceful, yet unadorned chair at the base and this one was occupied.

Anna assumed the man seated, who turned to them as they entered, was the Steward.

Before she could study him closer, the guards at her sides stepped closer, taking hold of her upper arms as the son stepped forward, halting the following party with a raise of his hand, and continued forward, bowing his head as he approached.

"My Lord," he greeted, voice controlled and calm, unlike it had been during his encounter with her, Anna noted. The Steward gave a half-smile, nodding in return.

"You requested my counsel? What for?" the older man asked bluntly. Anna stepped forward, intending to both present herself as she always did, without the help or sharp words of the Steward's son, and to hear their conversation better. However, just as the son moved to motion towards her, beginning to speak of a "pressing matter", the guards' grip tightened to the point of pain and the princess scowled, tearing her arms free from their grip as both ruling men of this strange land turned their eyes back to her.

The Steward's son frowned, his brow furrowing and eyes narrowing. The Steward himself, however, simply regarded her with a raised brow, gesturing towards her with a quick motion.

"And who is this?"

Anna had already began to approach, slowing to a stop as the son turned, though his own hand gestured her to move forward. She complied, wordlessly, for the fear slowly settling in her stomach urged her to hold her sharp tongue and save her neck.

"I found her in your personal chambers," the son supplied, reaching towards her to drag her before him. The princess resisted, coming to stand before the man on her own, shooting her adversary an icy look before turning her eyes on the Steward.

His gaze, like that of his son's, was cold and scrutinizing, barring into her to see past what guises she could have. She was tempted to say aloud that she had nothing to hide, but that was a lie in all its entirety-she had plenty to hide from strangers and many reasons to do so.

Leaning forward, hunching slightly in his polished chair, the Steward frowned again. "What was she doing there? And how did she manage it?" He was speaking as if she was not standing in front of him, waiting to be judged. Anna felt her face begin to burn slightly with humiliation-she had never been disrespected so directly before.

Glancing between father and son, she noticed the similarities in their frowns, though the son's was creased with worry and the father's was lined heavily, as if he did little smiling.

"She claims she is from a distant land-" the son began.

Unable to sit in silence any longer, Anna ground her teeth. "I said I was from Transylvania."

The son's frown deepened and for a moment, they stood, eyes locked as they glared daggers at each other. A sudden chuckle drew them both back to the issue at hand.

"So,_ girl_," the Steward began, staring at her intently, as if examining a rare species set before him. Anna raised her head, lips pulled into a thin line, chin held high with pride. It never failed, she thought bitterly, that some old man was always going to be looking down on her, no matter how high she rose in rank or importance.

"Who are you?" he asked finally.

"Princess Anna Valerious," She answered curtly, watching the Steward's son out of the corner of her eye, hoping he would finally allow her to tell her story and give her a chance to save herself, if it was possible.

The Steward straightened, glaring down at her now with contempt. "_Princess_?" he repeated at length, leaning forward again. She set her jaw, giving a short nod, forgoing speaking for fear she might let something rude slip past her lips and doom her.

"How did you manage to find your way into my personal chambers, undetected, hm?"

The princess faltered, letting her mouth open, but being unable to find the right words. If she strayed from the truth or devised a far-fetched tale, they would sooner believe that than the truth-that she had stepped through a mirror that was supposedly to lead her to her most hated enemy's lair so she could complete her family's work, slaying Dracula, his remaining bride, and his children.

"I don't know." It was not a total lie-she had no idea how the mirror-the door-worked, nor how it had backfired so terribly and sent her here instead of the icy prison Dracula had been trapped in. The Steward regarded her carefully and then sat back, gesturing to her and addressing the rest of the room.

"Is this some sort of trick?" he laughed, eyes narrowing as they fell on her again. Defiance welled within her and she stepped forward, not noticing the guards and the son doing the same, hands resting on their weapons.

"I'm telling the truth!" Anna ground out, returning the ruler's harsh gaze with one of her own. For a minute, they simply stared, neither wanting to break their line of sight first, to surrender.

The Steward frowned deeply, gesturing for her to continue, his keen eyes watching her like a hawk. Breathing in slowly to calm herself, Anna began to speak.

"I don't know how I arrived in your personal chambers, nor do I know why."

"And why not?"

Again, she balked. "I closed my eyes, trusting that I was to be led where I needed to go." Like a fool, she added silently.

"Where you needed to go? And where was that? To this room instead? What is your purpose here?" The Steward rattled off question after question, his own irritation with her showing, as she clenched her fists at her side.

"A spy or an assassin?" the Steward's son offered, prompting Anna to whirl around to glower at him before returning her attention to his father.

"I am not a spy of your damned_ Black Lands_!" she shouted, more to the Steward's heir than the Steward himself. The ruler straightened in his seat, staring at her. Unable to bite her tongue any longer and have no say in her fate, the gypsy princess continued; "I have never heard of these Black Lands, or of Minas Tirith, or of anything or anyone else I have encountered." She then bit her tongue, choosing not to inform him that, if she had been there to harm him, she would have done it already and been on her way.

The Steward gave a snort and raised a brow at her again. "Meaning?"

With a heavy sigh, Anna swallowed her pride. "I'm lost." Horribly, horribly lost.

"You are also heavily armed," the Steward reminded, speaking as if she was a dull child, confused as to why they were being chided. This time, a smirk nearly split her features and she raised a brow of her own.

"So is every man in this room." The Steward scoffed at that, settling back and staring at her intently, rubbing at his chin. While the rest of the men stared at her, either with caution or with contempt, she waited. Was the Steward going to judge her or not? Did she need to say more? Had she said too much?

Leaning forward, farther than he had done before, the Steward challenged her with a half-smirk. "Why should I believe you?"

There it was-the ultimatum. Her next move defined her fate, sealed his judgement of her. She could argue that she was a royal and it would be an act of war to kill her. She could fight his harsh judgement of her. She could even beg and plead. None of these options would do-she would either be humiliated, killed on the spot, or imprisoned. All she needed was to be set free. Her choice was made.

All eyes trained on her, she reached for her belt, hearing the scuff of boots behind her that meant the guards were preparing to move to their ruler's aid, but she ignored them, focusing on the Steward's face, glaring all the while. Fumbling with the buckle, Anna removed her sword belt, gathering the black leather and her blade in it's scabbard, raising it in her right hand, and holding it out to her side. She hesitated, only a moment, hearing her father and brother's voices chastising her for what she was about to do. Without flinching, the princess tossed her sword away from her.

"I am unarmed," she declared. "I am no threat to you or any other."

Silence.

The Steward then stood, clutching a tall staff in his hand, and stepping down to her, examining her carefully, keen eyes darting to her discarded weapon momentarily.

"No," he agreed. "You are no threat to me. Though you never did say how you arrived here..."

"I took a wrong turn," she supplied, her heart lifting slightly. "Opened the wrong door, it seems. That's what I get for trusting an inept guide, I guess." Though she was lying yet again, she couldn't help but wonder if she laid the blame on a nameless individual-her ancestor, perhaps, as he was the one who banished Dracula through the mirror in the first place-she might escape the brunt of the judgement.

The Steward laughed, regarding her carefully. "Indeed." With a smirk, he turned to return to his seat. "Very well, Princess. If I allow you to stay within my walls, how long do you believe you will need to find your route back to-"

"Transylvania," she supplied, pursing her lips. Resting her hands on her hips, she frowned slightly. "If I had a map, I could better judge my time."

"Several months then," the Steward offered, retaking his seat and waving off the start of her protest. She didn't have that kind of time! "Lieutenant, let it be known. This foreigner has been granted a place to stay within the Steward's halls. Now," he paused, as if wondering what to do with her next.

"Father," the son began, stepping forward, his voice lowered. "If she is to stay, then she is to need a guide" He cast a glance to her and for the first time, Anna noticed that his eyes were a warm shade of grey. "someone to show her our ways and lead her around the city, if need be...?"

The Steward nodded grimly, as if her presence alone was a troublesome worry. "Yes, so it would seem. You can do it, can you not?"

Anna gave an indignant scoff at the thought of being forced to spend time with the Steward's son, just as the son himself moved to protest.

"Can you not?" the ruler asked again, silencing them both, though the princess still fumed. His son gave a small sigh.

"Yes."

"Good. It is settled then-give her a tour, if you like. Now go," the Steward raised his voice to address the entire room. "All of you. I have pressing matters to attend to and little time in which to do it!" And with that, they were dismissed, all filing out of the room quietly. Anna fell into step with the son, her face pulled into a disgruntled frown. She did not want to spend any more time with the man than she had to, given that they had met each other at sword point, and she only assumed he felt the same.

Silently, he led her on through the halls, muttering under his breath occasionally and only irritating the princess further.

"If we're going to be forced into this, the least you could do is be more welcoming," she hissed, settling her hands on her hips again. He turned to her, chewing over his words before he spoke.

"And what would you have me say to be more welcoming?" he challenged, his tone grim. Anna frowned, tossing her head to look ahead of them before casting him a guarded glance.

"You could start with your name," she offered bitterly. "Seeing as you know mine, it is a fair exchange."

Regarding her closely, grey eyes piercing, the man gave a slight nod. "I am Boromir, Captain-General of the Armies."

"Boromir," Anna repeated, testing his name on her tongue. It was strange, no doubt, but she had no time to question it-Boromir was already continuing down the hall, and she refused to be left behind.


	4. The Steward's Sons

All content belongs to their rightful owners: Lord of the Rings to J. R. R. Tolkien and Van Helsing to Stephen Sommers. All role play content is posted with the role players' permission and consent.

Role players featured in this chapter: princessannavalerious and boromirofminastirith

Read and Review!

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**3. The Steward's Sons**

Following Boromir closely, pace quick, Anna took each moment she could to take in her surroundings, her reluctant guide included. Marble and limestone lined every hall they walked down and, for the first time in her life, the princess felt a miniscule stab of jealousy at the wealth and power of the city she now found herself in.

Boromir was silent as he led her down each polished hall, only adding to her lingering frustration. She didn't like being kept in the dark on any matter, and, if she was now to be staying with this man and his father indefinately, she would rather not be ignored and treated to silence.

"Where are we going?" she demanded briskly, increasing her steps to match his, offering him a poisonous glare. The Steward's son turned, lips pulled into a grim line. Before he could answer, his eyes left her face and he looked over her head. Irritation growing, Anna also turned to look, seeing a man coming towards them, his arms cradling some precious cargo, eyes darting towards it every other step, as if it were too fragile to be handled.

Or too dangerous.

As the man approached, the same servant from earlier, Anna noted, the same fear etched into his features, he bowed his head, coming to a stop a few feet from them.

"My lord Boromir," he greeted hurridly, to which Boromir responded with a short nod. "And-and, erm.." the servant stuttered, glancing worriedly to her. Anna blinked, unsure of how to continue with this nervous man, when he unfolded his arms, holding out the object in hand to her-her blade, scabard, and belt.

Taking it from him gingerly, chastising herself horribly for forgetting it in the first place, knowing that her life had depended on this sword more often than not. With a grateful bob of her head, she clutched the weapon close to her, with a simple; "Thank you."

The servant jolted, blinking quickly and opening his mouth as if to speak, but decided against it, bowing once more and scurrying away. Amused, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, the princess set to work fixing her belt back into place, glad to feel its familiar weight on her hip once more. She could feel Boromir watching her and, raising a brow at him as she straightened, she frowned slightly.

"You didn't answer my question."

"We were interupted," he reminded, tone clipped, but not nearly as miffed as before. A small tilt of her head accompanied a hesitantly softened expression from one of ignorant anger to one of mere confusion. His own countenance changed from hardened to curious, before he turned back to his original path, walking ahead of her once again. With a groan of irritation, the princess followed suit.

"If you are to be staying with us, this information must be shared." Boromir finally answered, casting a glance towards her. Anna met his gaze, but the sound of swords clashing drew her eyes elsewhere, looking forward as they came closer to an open doorway. Squinting at the bright light of the sun shining through the opening, Anna turned to Boromir again.

"Shared with who?"

Four arrows hitting canvas targets in rapid succession cut their interaction short and Anna came to an abrupt stop, taking a step back as her eyes adjusted and she stared out at the training field. Men were scattered all over the courtyard, some sparring with each other, others, like the four men directly in front of her, were drawing back long bows. The princess' eyes darted back and forth, unsure of the situation yet again.

"Boromir!"

Both turned at the voice, Boromir with a grin and Anna with a look of befuddlement, as a man approached them from his place from the first target, smiling and laughing. The Steward's son gave a throaty chuckle, clapping the other man on the shoulder and looking down at the target, a single, green fletched arrow sticking out of it.

"What were you aiming at?" Boromir teased. The other man rolled his eyes, giving a playful push and gesturing down at his target.

"The target of course!"

"Well, certainly not the center of it. You're too far off!"

"And what do you know of archery?"

Anna watched them carefully, chest aching at the familiar interaction between the two men-the easy, playful teasing and the obvious deep bond reminded her of her brother, Velkan, and the relationship she had had with him. In an instant, noting the stark similarities in their features and the closeness they showed, Anna guessed that Boromir and this other man were brothers.

Both men gave a hearty laugh, clapping each other on the shoulder again, settling back and pausing briefely, as if they both had something on their minds to say, yet were waiting for the other to speak first. Anna stepped forward out of habit, not wanting to be excluded and to scan the training field once more, now that her eyes were properly adjusted, to take in the intriguing scene unfolding before her. The brother caught sight of her, blinking in surprise.

The princess stopped short, hesitant to keep her eyes locked on Boromir's brother-he seemed to share the same keen, intense eyes of the Steward and she supressed a shudder at the thought.

The brother finally moved, nudging Boromir and nodding in her direction, eyes flickering between them. The reluctant pair tensed, the princess inhaling with apprehension and the native sighing with resignation. Motioning her forward, Boromir gave a wide gesture between the two standing on either side of himself.

"My brother, Faramir, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien."

Faramir gave a curteous bow of his head, nodding with a quick smile. Already, Anna decided that she liked him better than his brother, who, as the heir, was likely the elder of the two. He was certainly more polite, though she knew she should partially forgive Boromir, due to the circumstances of their meeting.

Gesturing to her, Boromir introduced hesitantly; "Faramir, Princess Anna -"

"Valerious," she finished, stepping closer and offering a pleasant nod of her head. Faramir suddenly frowned, bowing low with a respect that shocked her. She may have carried a royal title all her life, commanded reverence with her powerful voice and high position in Vaseria, but never before had she been bowed to in such a manner. Those mannerisms died out decades ago with suits of mail and the codes of Chivalry.

"My lady," he offered politely, as he straightened. Brow creasing, Anna shook her head, waving his words off and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am no one's lady," she clarified, her tone firm, but gentle. "But, princess, if you must. Otherwise, call me Anna." At both men's confused expressions, she chewed the inside of her cheek. How did she begin to explain her reasoning behind this? That she had never been called 'My lady', nor did she ever think she'd be comfortable with it? Or that she was hoping that, in the short time she had been in this strange land, she had managed to put two and two together, with her knowledge of the standard social ladder?

"I am a stranger in these lands, but, from my understanding, our social standings are almost equal, yes? There is no need for such formalities."

Faramir and Boromir both answered with a brief look of puzzlement, but the former smiled at her, piercing eyes twinkling and the harshness melting from his features. Anna in turn mimicked him, allowing her lips to turn up ever so slightly. Pulling her eyes away from the brothers, she looked down at the target, pouting slightly as she examined the shaft, imbeded in the canvas and wood.

"Was this your shot?" she asked, gesturing down the range. Faramir nodded, hand clenching and unclenching around the grip on his long bow. With an appraising nod, Anna offered a half-smile, the first one she had shared since arriving in the city, and placed her hands on her hips. "You're very good," she complimented.

"Thank you, Anna," Faramir quipped, testing her name on his tongue. Just as their names were odd, it seemed hers was just as strange on his tongue. "You are familiar with longbows then?"

With a slight grimace, her eyes not yet leaving the target, Anna gave another nod. "More or less. I myself prefer the sword-" She placed her hand reflexively on the pommel of her blade, twisting her hand on the polished brass. "Longbows are more of a... rarity among my people." Not that any of the villagers were short on talent, of that they had plenty, she thought sarcastically, but they were too preoccupied with the harvest tools and traditional pieces to sell in markets than with hand-crafted bows for hunting. Gun powder was cheaper.

"And where do you hail from, Princess? Your name is-"

"Foreign?" Turning around, Anna gave a small laugh, taking in the archer's appearance fully for the first time. He was clothed similar to his brother, who stood almost off to the side, grey eyes watching her carefully, yet his was looser and colored like the shades and hues of the forest. Boromir had mentioned a type of ranger-perhaps these rangers, and, thus Faramir, were stealthy hunters.

With a silent sigh, she fought an inner battle of describing her home as she had before. Noting how that had backfired, Anna sought the easier route.

"A land far from here," the princess allowed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Boromir shift, raising a critical brow at her, to which she returned in kind. Before their standoff could begin anew, a servant came forward, bowing low to them all before offering a pleasant smile.

"My lords, my lady-Lord Denethor requests your presence once more for an evening meal."

Faramir stiffened and Boromir's fingers pressed against his forehead, massaging the skin beneath them. Anna gave them each a glance, feeling embarrassment rising in her cheeks at the realization that she had just been invited to dinner-a formal dinner, she suspected-and she didn't know who the host was. Cautiously, she leaned closer to the brothers, folding her arms close to her and whispering her question; "Who?"

"Our father," Faramir answered in a hushed voice, hands tightning around his bow. Boromir simply regarded her silently, irritatedly, she noted, before shaking his head, waving the servant off.

"We will be there. Let me show our guest to her chambers and we will be joining him shortly."

Shock flitted across the princess' face, though only for a moment, as Boromir shared a grimace with his brother. Faramir slung his bow over his shoulder with a sigh.

"We might as well get ready now-no need to keep him waiting. You know how he gets." The ranger offered with a false grin. Nodding in Anna's direction, he turned and stalked across the courtyard, just as Boromir cleared his throat to get her attention, leading her back into the palace.

Content to keep her face a mask of anger than to show the interest she was now holding for the Steward's sons and their city, Anna followed closely, eyes wandering the halls in an attempt to familiarize herself with the palace enough to find her way to her room without difficulty. The last thing she wanted to do was be dependent on her guide to take her to places she ought to know. Still, the halls were starting to blend together in her eyes-all were white with black pillars, with only a few small tables or pieces of furniture to indicate they were different at all.

"Your chambers will be near ours," Boromir informed her, not bothering to turn and face her. "It will take Faramir and I but a few minutes to make ourselves presentable."

"You need not worry about me keeping you waiting," Anna snapped as they came to a stop. "It seems to me as if you've never met a woman like me before. I may surprise you yet." It was a challenge-the gypsy princess wanted to see what the women of this land were like compared to herself-were her actions and mannerisms common or unheard of?

"Believe it or not, there are not many women I am familiar with," Boromir replied gruffly.

"Then I will have to teach you," she offered, less out of spite and more out of the pure amusement at shocking him with her foreign and strange ways. It was always a pleasure to see a man's eyebrows meet his hairline. Turning away from him, she found herself staring at a door, simple, yet elegant. With a nod towards it, hands on her hips, she confirmed her thoughts aloud. "This is where I'm to be staying?"

At Boromir's nod, Anna stepped forward and opened the door, an audible gasp passing her lips as she stepped into the room. Or, rather, rooms.

The first room she entered was remniscent of a large study, a polished ebony desk set in the center of the room, two matched chairs set on either side of it, and a small sofa at the wall closest to the door. The arched doorway at the end of the study led into another room, one that, from where she was standing, could be made out as the bedroom. What she had expected to be a simple room for guests was more of a small apartment like the ones she had seen in Budapest.

Transfixed on the genorosity shown to her, a foreign royal and irritating guest, Anna barely heard Boromir's question, asking if she was in any more need of him.

"No," she answered softly, facing him with a thankful nod. "No, thank you."

With that, he blinked before returning the nod. "Ready yourself quickly, then. The Steward is waiting." Boromir turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her to her task. Anna made her way carefully through the study, stopping beside the desk and opening the dark blue curtains to reveal a stunning view of the afternoon sun and the land below it. Shaking her head before she could loose herself to the beauty of it all, Anna stepped into the bedroom, noting with surprise the large bed and elegant vanity. The Steward was waiting.

Without a second thought, Anna shrugged off her velvet bolero, rolling up her sleeves and gazing at her face in the mirror, giving a steady thought to her appearence for the first time since she had arrived. A formal dinner with her host and his two sons. The evening hadn't even begun and already, Anna found herself longing for a strong drink.


End file.
